


We Met in the Middle (a normal life au)

by Captain_Castiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Clichedasfuck, M/M, a normal life au - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-07 10:26:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5453294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Castiel/pseuds/Captain_Castiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Dean and Sam Winchester were never hunters? What if Castiel had fallen anyways? This is a "normal life" au in which Castiel takes on human life while trying to cling on to the last bit of angel left inside him.</p><p>[trigger warning: lots of cliches]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Castiel isn't exactly a drinker. So when he lost his grace, he also lost his tolerance for large amounts of alchohol. So what is he doing at a bar? Cas isn't quite sure himself. Mostly he just stares at his empty drinking glass.

Meanwhile, Dean Winchester is exactly the opposite. It's too bad he finds it unmasculine to do so, because he secretly wants to get up on the bar and dance like a drunk girl. And take his shirt off while doing so. While swinging it in the air. Actually, why not? Dean was drunk and ready to party. Pushing his way through the large crowd of people, some probably underage, Dean clambered to the top of the bar, nearly stepping on a man's foot. "Sorry!" He giggled, like a teenaged girl. Today held no shame, apparently. 

Unfortunately, Castiel's hand was the one so rudely intruding on Dean. He jerked his hand back, his drinking glass tipping over. It wasn't full, but Cas still swore loudly. "Fuck!" The man above him giggled. "Sorry!" It was strange to see a guy this muscular and flannel-ridden acting so young. "It's okay," Castiel yelled up at the man, but he wasn't sure he heard him because he was currently taking off his shirt.

Whoa.

Castiel was so preoccupied with staring at the man's impressive abs that he only looked away when he stepped on his hand, this time for real and very painfully. "Crap!" Cas swore, still slightly entranced. Standing up, he cupped his hand to his mouth and shouted, "What's your name?"

At that very moment another person began shouting. He was very tall, with long hair and a flannel shirt to match the weird foot-stepping man's. "WOOO! You go, Dean Winchester, the party master!" He didn't seem very sober.

At that moment, Sam Winchester felt like crap. He didn't want to be here, but yet here he was, cheering on his drunken brother. To be fair, Sam was appropriately intoxicated as well. He had planned to spend a quiet night at Jess's until Jess had to cancel because she had to stay late at work. Or something. But instead he had let his stupid older brother coerce him into this mess of a party. What were they celebrating, anyway? They could have been celebrating their love of beer, for god's sake! Actually, the youngest Winchester wouldn't be surprised if they were. These people always seemed to have something to celebrate, and if the didn't, they made something up.

_Okay, so his name is Dean,_ Castiel thought. _Maybe I can get Dean's number._  Unfortunately, Dean was still drunkenly dancing on top of the bar. At this point the bouncer was trying to get him down from the counter, albeit unsuccessfully. Probably because he is so strong... _and so pretty_ , Castiel thought to himself.

Dean was still dancing when he fell off the bar counter. People had been cheering him on, so he was kinda pissed when the bouncer started tugging him towards the exit. "Noooo, gerroff." The bouncer ignored him and slammed the door in his face the moment Dean was outside. He had no idea where Sam was, so Dean, being the good brother he was, started walking away In a random direction, too drunk to form coherent thoughts like, get a cab or watch for cars.

Castiel sighed. Now that Dean was gone, the party was over. Pushing his glass towards the barista, he got up off his chair and started putting on his coat. When he felt a tap on his shoulder, he turned around, his trench coat hanging awkwardly off one shoulder. "Er, yes?" It was the tall guy who had been cheering Dean on.

"Hey, have you seen my brother?" Tall Guy grinned sheepishly, trying to keep his balance on the wall.

"Oh, and by the way, I'm Sam. Sam Winchester. I'm Dean's brother." Cas nodded, jerking his head towards the exit across the room. "He left that way." Sam smiled at him gratefully. "Thanks, man."

Well, I was an angel, Castiel thought resentfully. "It's no problem, Sam Winchester," he sighed. Sam turned and left, and Castiel was alone. He stood in place for almost a minute, a sinking feeling like dread in the pit of his stomach. Shaking his head, Cas pushed through a small group of chattering newcomers and out into the cold 2 am morning. The sky was still as dark as ink, with just a few stars speckling the heavens. Cas ran his hand through his hair and started the walk home to his small apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

  
Castiel was shivering when he arrived at his apartment building. The cold air had crept through his trench coat, nipping at his skin and spreading a chill through his body. It was so cold that tears sprang up in his eyes, and his nose felt thick, almost like it had been frozen onto his face.

Climbing up onto his stoop, Castiel rummaged through his pocket for his keys. Before he found them he managed to pick out a sticky candy wrapper, which he stuck in his other pocket with disgust. He also found an unwrapped Hershey Kiss, which was so disfigured that he wanted to throw it out, but there was an unfortunate lack of a trash can. That went in his other pocket too. His fingers ultimately brushed his keys, however, which he triumphantly pulled out, thrusting them into the lock.   
  
He stepped into the lobby, his muscles relaxing. It was very warm inside, a drastic change from the cold febricity outdoors. Castiel took a sweet moment to catch his breath, then determinedly started walking up the stairs. His apartment was very small-just a one-bedroom, nothing too special. Castiel turned the knob. It was unlocked. Strange. Castiel supposed that he had simply forgotten to lock it.

He swung the door open. Castiel took a cautious step into his living room, smelling the air. It smelled like vanilla, as usual. Castiel found that, as a human, food had improved. When he had been an angel, he could taste every molecule, and molecules did not taste very good, like little volts of tastelessness. So, now, human-ified, Castiel had taken up baking. At first, he wasn't very good (and he still really wasn't) but he could now make a cupcake without burning it.

Castiel scanned the room, throwing his bag onto his couch. He groaned, the exhaustion finally manifesting. There was a deep pit of emptiness in his throat, and he felt like he was about to cry. It was strange, being a human. As an angel, he never cried. Every emotion was overridden by the simple desire to serve God and obey. But God hadn't been seen in a long time-and then Castiel had woken up one day to a strange feeling. His grace had gone, just disappeared into the wind. He remembered sitting there, trying to fly, but he could not. His wings were still there-but also somehow not there at the same time. They just hung limply at his sides, a dull, unwashed grey instead of the silky black Castiel was used to. Eventually, they had simply started to crumble away. Now, if you looked closely, you could see a bare outline of a skeleton with a feather clinging on desperately.

Cas ran his hand through his hair. He just wanted to fall asleep, but as a human he had to brush his teeth. Brush his teeth, honestly! He hated it, it took him several minutes and he didn't like mint at all. Then he remembered-he had replaced it with bubblegum toothpaste! One of the things that made life worth living was bubblegum toothpaste.

Yawning, Castiel trudged into his small bedroom. Like the living room, there weren't many furnishings, just a simple, queen sized bed. Most of his money, the little he earned anyways, went towards simple survival. Living in LA, the apartment had been exorbitantly expensive anyways.

About to open the door, Castiel froze and backed away. A retching noise could be heard from inside his bathroom. Cas was terrified. He reached under his jacket for his angel blade, and he slid it out, silver and glinting in the dim light of the moon.

Cas reached for the door, hand shaking. The retching had stopped, and Castiel froze, listening, his heart beating in his ears. Slowly, he reached for the angel blade in his pocket.

The door slammed open violently, sending Castiel flying to the ground, his elbows scraping on the slightly jagged wooden floors. He raised his angel blade to defend himself from an incoming blow, when a heavy weight fell across his legs. Yelping, Castiel was sure he had heard an ominous crack.

Wincing, Cas dragged his legs out from the heavy weight. Cradling his thigh, he poked the stranger. Cas thought he should feel more terrified, but it had only been a matter of time before he would have been attacked by another angel. He was a fugitive, after all.

Cas stood up shakily, his leg bent at an awkward angle. It was a reflex to place his hands on his injured areas after a fight-Cas was 't really sure if this was a fight, it had mostly just been stranger angel falling on his legs-but anyway, it didn't matter. Humanity had taken away his powers of healing. Cas quickly removed his hands, feeling a cold loss.

Castiel limped over to his drawer, searching through several rows before he could find his rope. It was rough to the touch, a sore reminder of Castiel's cut-up hands.

Castiel turned around, rope limp in his hands, scanning for his attacker on the ground. Damn it.

The space where the other angel had been laying was empty. Swearing, Cas dropped his rope and took out his angel blade for the second time in five minutes. This always happened. Turn your back for one second, and they disappear. Cas took a quick check to make sure nobody was behind him. Cas was having less and less appreciation for his former species by the minute. As soon as the angel attacked, Castiel was pretty much screwed.

Catlike, Castiel moved towards the lonely spot on the floor. He crouched on the ground, scanning his room. Shadows cast on the furniture made it seem like there was an enemy in every corner.

Then Cas heard a noise and spun around. But there was nothing behind him but a door. Groaning in disbelief, Castiel swung his bathroom door open and accusingly pointed his angel blade at the figure... Throwing up in his bathroom?

Castiel was confused. Since when have angels ever gotten sick? Or drunk, by the look of this one? And he looked so familiar...

"Dean Winchester?" Cas asked. The retching stopped. The angel, or whatever it was turned, surprise evident on his face.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" Cas exclaimed, clutching his angel blade.   
His forehead was beginning to perspire-if this was an angel, he could smite him in an instant.

"Please, no, get away from me! Just take whatever you want, but please don't kill me!" Dean's voice was a frightened whisper. Castiel let his blade drop to his side, feeling confused.

"So... You're not an angel? Or a demon?" Cas asked suspiciously.

"What? No!" Dean whimpered, his rather attractive green eyes stretched wide.   
Castiel frowned, but his grip on his angel blade relaxed. Still, Cas was not convinced.

"Most of the angels I know can be very good liars when the want to... Dean, or whoever you are," Cas said harshly. Approaching the quivering man on the floor, he grabbed his arm. If he was an angel, cutting his arm would reveal the grace surging through his body. If he was a demon, then nothing would happen and Cas would get the holy water. There was some hidden in the cabinet?

Cas cut deep into Dean's arm. Nothing shone through, but blood started trickling through the cut. Dean yelped and tried yanking his arm away, but Cas kept a careful grip, watching for signs of a grace. He didn't want to take any chances. Finally, he removed the blade, satisfied. "So you're not an angel, then."

Dean whimpered. "What? I'm not an angel! That's not real! I'm an atheist, for god's sake!"

Castiel frowned. "Why are you-"

Dean grimaced, clutching his arm. "It's a goddamn phrase, Cas!" Cas sucked in air, his knife in his hand again.

"I never said my name. How do you know my name?" Cas narrowed his eyes, his already deep voice turning into a growl. Dean looked confused, rubbing his head.

"I'm drunk out of my mind. I don't know. Anyway, this is probably a dream or drug-induced hallucination, so why should I care?"

Cas sighed and sheathed his blade. He turned his tap, water gushing out, frothing at the bottom of his sink. There was a cup on his counter, and he picked it up, letting some of the lukewarm liquid cascade inside. Opening his cabinet, he poured in holy water when Dean was looking at his cut.

Cas turned around aggressively, thrusting the cup of water at Dean. "Here. Drink." Dean made a face, but took a large gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing. There was no sign of pain, not even a wince.

In that moment, Cas felt guilty. He had just assaulted this drunk stranger, who probably had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He leaned against the doorway.

"How are you so calm?" Cas questioned, as Dean finished the last bit of water in the cup.

"Like I said, dream. Next morning, I probably won't even remember this. Weren't you that guy in the bar, the one who's hand I stepped on?" Dean was a pretty person, there was no denying it. Frankly, he smelled a bit like alchoholism, but that didn't really matter.

"It'd be better if you didn't remember anything tomorrow," Cas muttered, finally sliding his blade back into his coat. He held out his hand, and Dean took it, shakily standing up.

"Thanks." Dean gave a nervous, breathy laugh.

"I should be running away, not holding your hand and saying thank you. This is one helluva messed dream." Dean smirked a little bit. Cas sighed, opening his bathroom door.

"Come. You should not be here. I will escort you around the corner, but then I must leave," Cas said awkwardly, gesturing lamely towards his living room. Dean took a shaky step towards the door, and promptly collapsed.

"Shit. I might need help," Dean muttered, staring, embarrassed at the floor. Cas laughed a little at that. Helping him up, Cas let Dean's arm drape around his shoulder.

"No homo, bro," Dean said nervously.

"Would you not consider that to be offensive to homosexuals?"

Dean stared at him strangely. "Um... Whatever, man." Cas decided to not say anything else, for risk of making the silence any more uncomfortable than it already was.

They didn't say anything else on the way outside. Cas could feel Dean's warm breath brushing his neck, but he kept his silence.

Outdoors, the sky was still a dark purple ink color, with streetlights giving an illusion of semi-daylight. Cas let Dean rest against the side of a brick building. Dean sighed and leaned back, eyes puffy with exhaustion and general hung-over ness. He started chuckling, then laughing out loud. "Oh my God, what just happened?" Soon he was doubling over, only to start throwing upon the sidewalk. Cas cringed and looked away until the retching stopped.

Dean stood back up, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm fine, I'm fine."

Cas stood back awkwardly. "Can you get home alright?" This was ridiculous. Dean groaned.

"Yeah, I'm fine... The sooner I wake up, the better."

"You really think this is a dream." Dean shrugged nonchalantly.

"There were drugs at the party and I've experienced worse. One time I hallucinated someone with black eyes talking to me. Weird, right?" A chill ran through Castiel's body.

"Yeah.... Weird." Dean smirked.

"Well... See you later, Cas." He turned and started walking away, stumbling every few feet.

At this point Cas was so tired that he didn't even care how Dean had known his name. There were black spots swimming before his eyes and he had barely enough energy to trip over a flight of stairs to get into his bed. It had not been the most easy of days, to say the least.

Cas almost fell into his bed, the pillows cradling him like a small child. Pulling the blankets over his shoulders, he curled into a fetal position and let darkness wash him away. 


End file.
